


just a little longer

by blueacorn



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Law Enforcement, M/M, drunk kuroo, who doesn't really seem drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 00:03:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8306171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueacorn/pseuds/blueacorn
Summary: In which drunk Kuroo is braver than sober Kuroo, but what else is new?





	

It’s been long enough that Kuroo thinks it should be part of his ‘what can you tell me about yourself’ spiel.

He’s Kuroo Tetsurou, he’s a scorpio, and he’s been in love with Sawamura Daichi for seven years. 

(He’d tried it once, when someone had ambushed him on the street with a survey.

“Excuse me, sir-”

“I’m Kuroo Tetsurou, I’m a scorpio, and I’ve been in love with Sawamura Daichi for seven years.”

“Um.”

“He’s my partner.”

“That’s-”

“My cop buddy, the Danno to my Mcgarrett, the Scully to my Mulder-”

“I’ll just get out of your way, sir.”)

It gets stifling sometimes, the surge of _want_ and _longing_ that catches in his throat whenever he sees a flash of the familiar warm smile, hears the low hums that only ever sounds when Daichi is too worn out to realise he’s doing it. 

On those days, heat thrums under his skin, everything seems sharper, and he’s always on the edge of breathlessness. He has to tear himself away from every brush of skin, has to swallow ill-timed confessions, thoughts a constant wild storm of _if I tell him it’ll be over no more pining I’ll get my answer I just need to tell him._ Thoughts that areunderscored, oddly enough, by Bokuto’s voice, a small, _Hey hey hey, bro, you got this!_

By the time Daichi’s waving a farewell at him, promising sweetly to “See you tomorrow,” Kuroo’s heart is beating a rhythm in his chest - _tellhim tellhim tellhim._ A rhythm that goes ignored as he returns the smile and wave, with a painful “See ya, Sawamura.”

Thinking back to it the day after, Kuroo always groans and buries his face in his hands, messing up his bedhead even more. 

( And he’d appreciate some _sympathy_ , but- 

“Why are you embarrassed? You’re always this dramatic.” 

“You are the worst best friend, Kenma.” 

“You’re making progress, Kuroo. You only sent me twenty one texts about how you were going to tell him instead of the usual thirty.”

“ _The worst.”)_

But loving Daichi... is never a torture. Most days, it’s a comfort. A warmth in Kuroo’s chest, like mid-morning sunlight falling softly through the blinds. The way he imagines it’d feel waking with Daichi in his arms, fingertips trailing across sleep-warmed skin, the soft sounds Daichi would make as he stirs, the tiny frown on tempting lips from Kuroo’s playful nibbles at his ear. 

(The number of times Kuroo’s called Daichi far too early in the morning just to hear a sleepy, gruff, “What is it, Kuroo?” is almost unforgivable.)

Eventually, Kuroo knows, something has to give. He imagines it like this -

_A close shave, too close this time. Warm blood spilling over his hands, over Daichi’s, and he’s gasping, he’s in pain -_

(He’s always the one injured in these musings - not Daichi. Never Daichi.)

_\- and then he’s grasping Daichi’s hand in his. It’s more likely to be his last chance than not, and he has to say it, has to make it real._

_“Daichi, I-”_

“- love you.”

Kuroo pauses in his speech, taking the opportunity to down the rest of his drink, and to take a breath. 

As he chokes, coughing and sputtering, Tsukishima looks to him, pained, and scoots further away. 

“Can I go now?” 

Kuroo barely gets out a nod, dropping his head to the counter. 

“Don’t,” he slurs, blinking slowly, “don’t tell him.”

“I really don’t care enough to.”

“You’re a good kid, Tsukki. Hey, get me another drink before you go?” 

“I refuse.” 

“Aw c’mon, help a guy-”

“Sawamura-san.” 

Kuroo’s head whips up to see three Daichis. 

“Sawamura!” he calls to the Daichi on the right, excited, “What’re you doing here? Thought you wanted an early night!” 

“Tsukishima called,” comes the wry reply, “I see you’ve finally replaced Bokuto.”

“Nah, man. Me and Bokuto, we’re-” Kuroo pauses, searching, “we’re-”

Before he can flail even more, Daichi cuts in. 

“‘Bros for life’?” 

Kuroo slams a hand on the table, nodding vigorously, “Bros! For life! But he’s on a stakeout with that new guy. Shrimp.” 

“Hinata,” Daichi corrects, disapproving, “And you decided to drag along the other new guy? We have work tomorrow, Kuroo. What were you thinking?” 

“Aw, you know I leave most of the thinking to you, Sawamura!” 

Kuroo watches, entranced as the three Daichis sigh in tandem and turn to the tall, blonde stick beside them. 

“I’m sorry you had to deal with this. I’ll take over from here, you go home and rest. Do you need a ride?” 

“Ugh,” Kuroo declares, letting his head fall back onto the table, “You’re such a dad. Such. A. Dad.” 

“... No, thank you. I’ll be fine.”

Kuroo yawns through their farewells, stirring only when a warm hand lands solidly on his shoulder, commanding his attention. 

“Kuroo, can you stand?”

He might be able to. If he wanted.

“Nope.” 

“You’re impossible,” Daichi mutters before tugging at Kuroo’s arm. 

“You know you love it,” he drawls as he’s pulled to his feet. 

Daichi doesn’t reply, the silence between them almost painful, surrounded by the noise of the bar. 

When they step out into the cold night air, then Daichi speaks, quiet, low. 

“You’ve been doing this more often lately.”

It’s true, Kuroo realises.

“It’s been worse, I guess. More difficult.”

“Then, why-?”

“I’m scared.”

“Still?” 

Kuroo stops. Then, in a smooth movement he’d congratulate himself for if he wasn’t half out of his mind, he pulls Daichi to his chest, the arm wound around broad shoulders reaching up to card through soft, dark hair. 

“Not _now_ ,” he murmurs, breathing in the vague scent of sweat, shampoo, and _Daichi._

It takes a moment, but, with a hushed curse, Daichi relaxes into his hold. 

“I won’t let you get away with this much longer, Kuroo.” 

“I know,” Kuroo replies immediately, tightening his grip, “It won’t be long, I swear.”

Daichi’s voice is muffled as he presses in closer, “You’ve been saying that every time.”

“Can’t you feel it, though? It’s getting to that point.” 

“...Mm.” 

It’s a small, uncertain sound, so unlike Daichi that Kuroo pulls away, frowning. 

“Hey,” he whispers, his free hand lifting from his side, cupping Daichi’s cheek, “Hey. Just a little while longer, okay? I promise.” 

Daichi reaches up, fingers tangling in the material of Kuroo’s shirt. 

“Is it really that difficult?” 

_No,_ Kuroo thinks, _you deserve the best. I don’t know if I can give that to you. I don’t know if I’m enough. It’s not your fault, it’s-_

_“-_ not you, it’s me.” 

_Stupid!_

“I mean-”

Low laughter cuts him off, and Daichi bumps his head gently against Kuroo’s shoulder, “We aren’t even together yet and you’re already using that line on me?” 

“... Any chance you could forget the last ten seconds?,” Kuroo asks, miserable.

Daichi snorts. 

“No way, at least one of us needs to remember how embarrassing you are when you’re drunk, and it’s not going to be you.”

“This is _cruelty_.”

He feels Daichi shake his head before pulling away, and he moves to protest, but a look from Daichi shuts him up. 

(He may be braver while he’s drunk, but no amount of courage is enough to withstand _that_.)

“I think,” Daichi begins as he walks away, leaving Kuroo to follow unsteadily behind, “I can wait. Just a bit.” 

Kuroo’s breath catches, and then he smiles, small, grateful.

“Thank you, Daichi.”

‘You’re welcome, Tetsurou.”

**Author's Note:**

> and yet again this is not the fluff that i wanted to write but it is at least a better attempt at kurodai compared to my first fic


End file.
